


open wound

by odysseus



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, General Mention of Violence and Injury, M/M, [Also that one pairing Ellie will always ship no matter what], [Take this horrible fanfic.... take it...], [That one fanfic where Ellie actually researches on how to clean laceration wounds], how do you tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odysseus/pseuds/odysseus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When killing a jester goes completely wrong...<br/>Well, at least the Doctor's there to save the day, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	open wound

It was a miracle the Serial Killer managed to get out of the Werewolf’s house alive – Well, if one considered “alive” to be torn open and bleeding all over the town.

All he wanted to do was kill that Jester who had been unknowingly claiming that he was the Serial Killer, and who knows what would happen if an investigative role had actually believed him and searched his house. Then, there was the Werewolf. Oh, stupid town, stupid Jester for the entire incident, stupid Werewolf for choosing HIS house to wreck havoc in on this stupid day—

The wail of complaints from him flooded the otherwise serene town of Salem; but who would care about the “Serial Killer”? Now he was a suspect, and now he had to walk around Salem with paranoia in every cell of his body. Stupid Jester.

He nearly reaches his house and twists the doorknob open before the pain numbs his entire body, at last, and collapses in front of his door. Beautiful work right there, the Mayor won’t even need to drag him out of his own house. Then again, the Mayor was always lazy, so what would change? Probably nothing.

With nothing much to do, the bleeding intensifying and his heart pounding with extreme speed because of how much blood was leaking out of him. He lifts his head up, blurry eyes catching view of the full moon.

Stupid Werewolf, he decides that would be his final word in his will, before he closes his eyes…

And then, he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he jolts awake. What in tarnation was going on right now? He blinks to get the blurriness out of his system, and cranes his head to turn at the unwanted… Only to find out that the “unwanted” was a doctor.

“Oh my fucking—“Finally, he would like to say to the doctor; his comrade of… as long as Salem had became such a hellhole of mystic creatures and serial murderers.

“Shh, easy now, pal,” the Doctor whispers, placing the first aid kit gently beside him and opening it up. First, the cloth. The Doctor pours a bottle of water onto the cloth, and wrings it at the space behind him. Then, he gently pats the laceration wounds on his torso, the cream-coloured cloth soaking up the blood quickly – his blood and the other visitors’ blood.

The Serial Killer can’t muster up the goddamn energy to poke fun at the other’s finesse and scream like he touched the wrong spot.

He puts it at the side, pulling out a bandage roll to wrap and compress the wounds that were not so deep. He winces at the largest slash, rubber gloving gently tapping at the edge of the wound.

“Seems deep, I might have to stitch it up—Hey, you’re not… Scared of needles, right? Just asking—“

“You’ve been my friend for how many months, now?” The Serial Killer retorts in an instant, trying to put on a smirk. He grunts in pain as the Doctor “gently” presses the wound.

“Hey, fuck you!”

“Hey, next time you become such a smartass, I might just leave you to die next full moon,” the Doctor sighs, a hint of playfulness in his words. He gently picks up the sewing kit for larger wounds, and pierces the needle into the end of the gash.

Now, the Serial Killer screams. The Doctor rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a wuss,” the Doctor taunts, and the Serial Killer rolls his eyes and laughs.

The Doctor stitches the wounds up with precision and speed; it was almost too fast. The gentleness of his hands, the concentration on his face-

Feels like whiplash, if you'd ask him.

“All done!” the Doctor claps his hands together, and the Serial Killer belts out a short laugh.

“Thanks for almost leaving me to die, love the urgency there,” he deadpans. The Doctor grins.

“You’re welcome,” the Doctor replies.


End file.
